Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1450

Chapter 1450: Worshipped
Villain Ch 1450. Worshipped

Alice was still in his lap, her thighs pressing firmly against him, her breath fanning against his neck. “Let’s see just how long you can stay still.”

Allen exhaled sharply as she leaned in, her lips brushing along his pulse, placing a single, lingering kiss.

Then another.

And another.

Soft. Warm. Possessive.

Her fingernails scraped lightly down his chest, tracing slow patterns over the fabric of his shirt, her other hand slipping lower, hovering just above where he was already growing hard.

A deep, burning heat coiled in his stomach, his body reacting on instinct, but he still didn’t move.

Not yet.

“Hah…” His breath hitched as Zoe’s hand wrapped around his wrist, bringing his hand up to her lips as she kissed along his knuckles. “Relax, Allen.”

Bella’s fingers slid along his abs, her nails raking gently over the muscles, teasing his nerves as she leaned in to press her lips to his collarbone, sucking lightly before biting down just enough to leave a mark.

Allen groaned lowly, his head tilting back slightly.

Shea trailed her lips down his throat, her tongue flicking out briefly before she sucked another deep, bruising mark onto his skin, claiming him one mark at a time.

Allen gritted his teeth, his fingers twitching against the cushions, but he still held himself back.

Alice shifted slightly in his lap, her warmth pressing down against his growing arousal, her fingers finally brushing against his length, teasing the fabric still separating them.

He inhaled sharply.

Alice grinned, voice dripping with satisfaction. “Oh? That’s a nice reaction.”

Larissa’s fingers trailed along his thighs, squeezing once before she leaned in, her breath ghosting over his ear. “How long do you think you’ll last, Allen?”

Allen exhaled shakily, his restraint hanging by a thread.

The girls weren’t giving him an inch to move, keeping him pinned beneath their wandering hands, soft lips, teasing bites.

Alice’s grip on his length tightened slightly, her palm gliding slowly over him, her smirk widening at the way his breath stuttered.

She was thorough, moving at an agonizing pace, building the tension until it burned through his veins.

And Allen— Allen realized just how much he needed this.

Needed them.

Needed this overwhelming presence, this warmth, this indulgence he rarely allowed himself.

He wasn’t just tired.

He was starving for this.

For the comfort of their touch.

For the way they surrounded him, held him, marked him, worshipped him like he was the only thing in their world.

And for once— He let himself have it.

The warmth surrounded him, soft hands mapping the planes of his skin with teasing, deliberate slowness. There was no urgency, no frantic tug-of-war for dominance—just quiet, unspoken understanding.

Allen exhaled as fingers traced up his forearm, slow and reassuring, another hand ghosting down his chest, pausing over the steady thump of his heart. He didn’t move, didn’t tense—just let himself feel. The scent of perfume, sweat, and something faintly sweet lingered in the air, blending into something uniquely intoxicating. The warmth of their bodies pressed against him, sinking into his skin, grounding him in ways words never could.

Alice shifted against his lap, her fingertips skimming along the hem of his shirt, teasing at the fabric before slipping beneath, her touch gliding over his stomach. “Still with us?” she murmured, voice laced with amusement but undercut with something softer.

Allen huffed a breath, eyes flicking to her, catching the way her eyes glowed under the lamplight. “Not going anywhere.”

Bella’s voice hummed from beside him, her breath fanning against his neck. “Good.”

His shirt slid up, peeled away with lazy precision, fabric whispering over his skin as cool air kissed the newly exposed surface. Hands traced over his shoulders, down his arms, nails skimming just enough to make his skin prickle with awareness. He heard the soft rustle of fabric as someone shifted, felt another body pressing against his side.

Shea chuckled, lips curving against his shoulder. “Damn. You really don’t let yourself rest, huh?”

Allen let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Not much of a luxury lately.”

Jane hummed, fingers tapping idly against his ribs before smoothing over the ridges of his abs. “That’s why we’re here.”

Zoe’s voice was a lazy drawl from where she leaned beside him. “Exactly. Consider this an intervention.”

He should’ve rolled his eyes, should’ve made some remark, but the way their hands moved—slow, thorough, as if mapping out every inch of him—made it impossible to do anything but feel. A palm flattened against his chest, pressing lightly, grounding him. Lips brushed against his collarbone, featherlight, teasing, before teeth scraped just enough to make his breath hitch.

Larissa smirked against his skin. “You’re taking this really well.”

Allen swallowed, eyes flicking downward as Alice dragged a single finger down his sternum, slow and deliberate. “What, you expected resistance?”

Alice grinned. “Not resistance. Just a little more squirming.”

Bella snickered. “He’s too tired to put up a fight.”

Allen didn’t bother arguing. He let his head tip back, eyes fluttering shut, surrendering to the sensation of warm mouths and softer touches, the way they moved around him in a careful, methodical rhythm. He wasn’t being devoured. He was being worshipped.

A hand slid down his stomach, tracing the ridges of his abs before dipping lower, teasing at the waistband of his pants. There was no rush, no impatience—just the slow unraveling of layers, both physical and otherwise.

When his belt was undone, fingers working with effortless coordination, he exhaled through his nose, half-lidded eyes catching the way Larissa smirked up at him, fingers hooking into the waistband before dragging it down. The cool air hit his skin and his breath hitched when lips ghosted down the inside of his thigh.

Vivian’s voice was a low murmur. “Relax.”

Allen did. Or at least, he tried.

The first brush of warmth made him exhale sharply, the sensation so immediate, so consuming that his fingers twitched against the sofa. He kept his eyes closed, let himself sink into the feeling—soft lips, warm breath, the wet heat of a mouth moving slow, deliberate, teasing him just enough to make his nerves spark alive. The rhythm was unhurried, torturous in its patience, a slow build that made his pulse stutter, made heat coil deep in his stomach.